


Take on the World and Win

by surrenderdammit



Series: Victory 'Verse [3]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Developing Relationship, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Insomnia, Spanking, Successful!Mike, These two are huge dorks okay, i love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderdammit/pseuds/surrenderdammit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Collection of ficlets/time stamps/drabbles/snippets connected to my story "Victory". </b>
</p><p> <b>RATING HAS GONE FROM T TO M. Might be upped to Explicit at some point.</b></p><p>Mike can’t help gape at the torrent of words coming out of Harvey’s mouth. Her cheeks are burning up, and her heart seems to be doing the rumba, and she can’t help the utterly hopeless and embarrassingly <i>dopey</i> grin that spreads across her face when she realizes what he’s saying. “Oh my God I can’t believe you had <i>Donna</i> tell you we are dating and then you tell <i>me</i> when we’re <i>five feet away from a weed selling hot dog stand.</i>”</p><p> <br/><b>Updated 06/03-2017: Chapter 6!</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hi, yes...I kinda caved and wrote more of this 'verse. Um. I do have an actual sequel to "Victory" that is like a few paragraphs from being done. I'm sorta suffering from performance anxiety from the amount of positive feedback I got for "Victory", though, so I'm holding on to that story for a while.
> 
> Meanwhile, have a few ficlets I couldn't fit into the sequel in progress, because I've fast-forwarded here.
> 
>  **EDIT:**  
>  I don't know how updates will be: I've only got two snippets written so far, and they're both posted now. I don't want to leave anyone waiting for too long on an update that might not come, so I've gonna keep this story as "complete" as I go. Each drabble could be the last, so...yeah :,D  
>  **/END EDIT**
> 
> Again: so, so new to writing Suits fics! English still isn't my first language, and I still haven't got a beta. 
> 
> Also, I recommend reading "Victory" first, but you can probably skip it if you want. But yeah. 
> 
> Enjoy! :,D 
> 
> Title form the song "All time high" by Rita Coolidge, from the James Bond movie Octopussy.

_“All I wanted was a sweet distraction for an hour or two._  
Had no intention to do the things we've done.  
Funny how it always goes with love, when you don't look, you find.  
But then we're two of a kind, we move as one."  
                             - All Time High, Rita Coolidge, _Octopussy_  

.

**I invited you to the dark side, because we have cookies (and cheese), but…**

**.**

After four straight hours of finding _squat_ , Harvey caves and accepts Mike’s earlier offer to help finish up after she came over and he still wasn’t done, on the condition of a signed confidentially agreement. When Mike’s pile of briefs is three times the size of his own after just a few hours, and she’s not only found the glitch he was looking for, but formed a new strategy to attack the problem with to boot, Harvey blinks, before he looks out into his living room and glares at nothing.

“I am extremely pissed off at the world right now,” he declares, frowning, because his own associate had been close to breaking into _tears_ when Harvey had attempted to foist _all_ the files off his way. In the end Harvey’s refusal to let an idiot mess up their case by spreading snot all over the files, all the while being unreliable in a nervous breakdown, won out.

Which is why he’s here, on a Saturday night, in the company of a woman who can not only deep throat, but also quote entire _Star Trek_ episode from memory (“I watched TOS with Grammy and she needed subtitles because of her hearing, okay, and I remember everything I read…it’s not that weird, stop looking at me like that!”), _reading through employee records_ of all things.

“Something is terribly wrong and unjust. I don’t like it, it messes with my Zen,” he continues.  Pausing, he puts the folders Mike handed him a moment ago away on the sofa table with the rest of them, and reaches for her, pulling Mike into his lap. Squinting, he stares up at her startled expression with narrowed eyes. “Why aren’t you working at _Pearson Hardman_? We must fix this.”

Mike remains unimpressed, which is another injustice he will correct…at some point. “Harvey, there’s nothing _Zen_ about you,” she points out, shaking her head and squirming in his lap for a more comfortable position before settling in, resigned. He doesn’t bother suppressing a smug smirk. “Also, I’m not quitting my job to start working for you. You don’t mix business with pleasure, right? Well, how would that work if I’d think about you bending me over your desk, and fucking me silly, every time I see your office?”

He pauses at this, leaning back a bit to stare at her, serious. “…I should show you my office. I must give you a tour, at the very least, before you decide. A late night tour. Of my office.” This is a great idea, surely Mike can see this.

 Groaning, Mike face-palms, but not before he catches her smiling. “You’re impossible.”

He grins. “Not impossible, just improbable.”

“I can’t decide if that qualifies as a _Trek_ reference or a _Sherlock_ reference.” She’s rolling her eyes heavenward, leaning away from him. She doesn’t get far, trapped in his arms and in his lap as she is.

He nuzzles behind her ear, pressing a light kiss on the skin there. “What can I say? I keep things interesting.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” she drawls, shivering.

He goes for the kill. “Also, Mike, with you, business would _be_ pleasure.”

There’s a moment of silence, before she replies, her voice strained with disbelief and poorly suppressed amusement. “…you’re so incredibly cheesy right now I feel like a Saltine cracker.” He can tell she’s fighting a smile. 

He pauses for a moment, nipping at her ear. Grinning widely, he murmurs, “Could you just…eat me up?”

She loses it. “ _Oh my God_.”

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey is a classy bitch, also, Mike is an actual adult okay.

.

**I swear I am an adult, a certified genius, and a professional!**

**.**

They’re catching a late lunch together, Mike having stopped by to meet Harvey outside of _Pearson Hardman,_ having business this way and the time to allow for a few minutes of a rest to stop and refuel. They’re sitting down on a bench while carefully trying to avoid spilling the condiments from their hot dogs on either Harvey’s suit or Mike’s dress, talking idly. As they finish eating and are wrapping things up, Harvey inquires about her plans next Friday, and as Mike reaches into her bag to fish out her day planner it occurs to her that before this, they’ve made their plans mostly over the phone. She realizes this because Harvey is giving her a weird Look, before gesturing to her little book.

“Seriously?” he says, incredulous, to which she frowns and looks down at her planner with the _Black Widow_ logo on it. “What are you, five?”

“I think it’s awesome, shut up,” she grumbles, making a mental note to not use her _Avengers_ notebook around him until she’s given him her unused and still unopened _Star Trek_ one.     

Harvey laughs, chucking her under her chin with a knuckle. “Sure thing, Spitfire.”

“Hey!” she scolds, or attempts and fails to, because she’s grinning and leaning in easily when his offending hand wraps around the back of her neck instead, pulling her close. He kisses her quickly, and it’s over before it really begins. They’re outside his place of employment, and although she’s found that Harvey’s a person to show off his things, what they’ve started building between them isn’t on par with signed baseballs or one-upping others with a prettier model on his arm each time at functions he detests.

“Mm, I sometimes forget you come with your own brand of weird,” Harvey comments, but the way his eyes crinkle and his lips twitch take any sting out of his words. “Why you’re still using a day planner in this day and age instead of getting yourself a real phone is beyond me. I’m sure Donna will be suitably offended when I tell her.”

Mike blanches, because she may or may not have a giant girl crush on Donna Paulsen, Goddess Extraordinaire, and no matter how silly she knows it is she suddenly doesn’t want Donna to know she’s got a _Black Widow_ day planner and a phone which doesn’t even have a display in color. Donna is the love child of Pepper Potts and Natasha Romanov, with a dash of Pamela Isley because she isn’t afraid to cross the Universes when it comes to Donna, and she tells Harvey as much.

“If I didn’t know Donna is straight and thinks you’re an adorable puppy to housetrain, I would be worried,” Harvey notes, deadpan. Mike rolls her eyes, punching his shoulder, because while she owns up to being a certified pansexual with all the blows and whistles, her crush on Harvey’s secretary is completely platonic and mostly hero worship with a dash of _wow get a hold of THAT_. Harmless, if completely _mortifying_. Harvey loves it.

“You dick,” she grumbles good naturedly, cracking open her day planner to get back on track and pencil in whatever it is Harvey had planned for them on Friday (she already knows she’s free, remembers everything she writes down, but she likes the order it lends her when the sheer amount of information she has to keep track of gets a bit muddled). “So, Friday?”

“Mm, yes,” Harvey slings an arm over the back on the bench, leaning back. “There’s a private exhibition at an Upper East Side art gallery Friday night, courtesy of a client I recently closed. Jessica insists I go, and I am in dire need of a plus one that won’t bore me to tears when I’m already going to be struggling to comprehend how, exactly, a bunch of framed paintings with different colored dots are somehow representing the deep struggle of a lonely soul in purgatory. Other than me simply projecting my misery onto them, that is.”

Mike snorts, momentarily distracted from the shock of what’s being implied. Shaking her head, Mike clears her throat and fidgets, nervous. “Is it, uh, a work function thing?”

Tilting his head, Harvey regards her calmly. “Would it matter if it were?”

Swallowing, Mike tries to tell her heart to calm its tits (she almost glances down to check if her heart’s beating so hard her left boob is moving to its rhythm, but restrains herself). “Well, I just…would you want them to...know?”

He raises a brow, seemingly amused, before he leans in closer. “Would I want them to know my plus one is a beautiful, intelligent, and smart mouthed weirdo?”

“ _Harvey,”_ she rolls her eyes, blushing, because this is _serious_ and she can’t believe he’s making them have this conversation outside _Pearson Hardman_ a few feet away from a _hotdog stand that sells weed on the side_.

Relenting, Harvey reaches over to tuck a stray hair behind her ear and lets his fingers linger, caressing the side of her neck for a moment before he draws back with a lopsided smile. “I’ve been readily informed that: ‘of course exclusively seeing the same person for sex, dinners, and movie nights, while keeping regular contact via phone and going grocery shopping together more than once, and keeping a drawer of clothes of said person at your loft, for about two months, means that you are dating this person, Harvey. Now stop bothering me with your emotionally stunted issues and crisis of self-discovery.’ I’m paraphrasing, of course.”     

Mike can’t help gape at the torrent of words coming out of Harvey’s mouth. Her cheeks are burning up, and her heart seems to be doing the rumba, and she can’t help the utterly hopeless and embarrassingly _dopey_ grin that spreads across her face when she realizes what he’s saying. “Oh my God I can’t believe you had _Donna_ tell you we are dating and then you tell _me_ when we’re _five feet away from a weed selling hot dog stand.”_

She sees him close his eyes and lower his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, but the twitch of his lips and the rose color of his cheeks give him away. “Me neither,” he sighs, sounding pained, but she cuts him off by sliding in close and bending over and down to kiss his downturned face. She presses her lips against his, feeling him startle against her, and slips her tongue out to tease his mouth open. He places a hand on the back of her neck, repositioning them so she’s no longer contorted, and for a moment she’s tempted to slide into his lap before she remembers they’re in public, and _outside Harvey’s place of employment_. Opps.

“Does this mean you’re going as my plus one?” Harvey asks as she breaks them apart, brow raised and smirking. She’s flushed and tingly from their kisses, and feeling awfully lightheaded, because while she hadn’t gone into their arrangement expecting anything serious, she has never been good at casual relationships. She gets emotionally attached, wearing her heart on her sleeve and hoping for the best. While she might not have had expectations, it hadn’t stop her from _feeling_ , and though she has become accustomed to settling for what she can get over the years it doesn’t mean she hasn’t wistfully longer for more. That this once, the man she’s been falling for, is giving her this leaves her feeling giddy and stupidly hopeful.  

“Yeah,” she breathes, unable to stop smiling. Harvey rolls his eyes, looking uncomfortable, but kisses her forehead gently while stroking a hand down her arm.

“Good. Wear the red dress, with the boat neck and black lace,” Harvey requests her, smirking at her when she blushes and glares, because he knows very well how many red dresses she has. It’s exactly one, and he’d bought it for her himself, after they had gone out eating and he realized her nicest dress not suited for the office was a simple black number from J.C. Penny that, while easy to get off, had apparently offended him on every other level.

Standing, he takes a hold of her hands and helps her up. “I think I might even let it slip to Donna that you’re in need of some appropriate shoes,” he adds absently, as if an afterthought, and she kicks him lightly in the shins for that.

“Don’t you dare!” she hisses, pouting when Harvey simply chuckles.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Harvey interrupts with, leaning down for one last kiss on each of her cheeks, before ending with her lips. “Take care, Mike.”

Embarrassingly endeared by him as always, Mike smiles shyly, basking in the warm feeling that settled in her chest after the words ‘exclusive’, ‘dating’, and ‘plus one’ left his lips. “Bye, you dork,” she grins, tugging lightly at his tie and setting it straight before she steps back with a wave. After she has watched him walk away, when he’s disappeared into the building of his office with a last wave of his own, Mike gives in. _She does it_.

She does a little victory wiggle.

It’s less of a dance, and more of a shake of her butt, clapping of her hands, and slight bounce on her toes. Ignoring the wolf-whistle this earns from some nearby idiot, Mike turns on her heels and is on her way, feeling the world is at her feet and forgetting, for a moment, the stress of work and the daunting reality of being introduced into Harvey’s professional life. She’s awesome, she can handle _anything_ right now.

(Though maybe not Donna shoe shopping.)         

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok that's all I have written for now. Omg this 'verse will kill me. 
> 
> A nod to EclecticRegard for the Avengers notebook she got me forever ago. I was tempted to throw in the fake tattoos too, because water tattooing the Hulk on your boobs is totally legit okay. TITTY RAGE!!!
> 
> *rolls back under bed*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t do relationships,” he says. “This is a casual, mutually beneficial, arrangement of non-exclusive sex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update?! MY GOD. Haha :P
> 
> Anyway, hi guys! I hope you had a great Christmas, or whatever else you celebrate this time of the year! :D I sure did :) Have some more fem!Mike/Harvey for the season <3 
> 
> This piece takes place some time after Victory, but before the events of chapter 2, obviously. Harvey gets hit rather hard by the clue bat, and he's not really happy about it.

**.**

**It started out as nothing but a repeat performance, then…well. Opps?**

**.**

The third time Harvey caved and texted Mike to come over, he gave himself a stern talking to in the bathroom mirror, after having showered. It’s a Saturday evening and he’s got _Star Trek: The Motion Picture_ queued, beer in the fridge, and a pizza ready to go into the oven. It’s not a date, he tells himself frowning. It’s a booty call. Just because his booty call happens to be smart enough to appreciate _Star Trek_ and good beer doesn’t mean it’s anything other than sex. If the benefits they have happen to involve sex _and_ good quality sci-fi, that’s just an unexpected bonus Harvey hasn’t had the pleasure of having before. Which is the only reason for these repeat performances, he tells himself.

Satisfied, Harvey shaves his 3 o’clock shadow and doesn’t bother with hair other than blow drying it and running a comb through it. Vegging out on the couch before copious amounts of sex doesn’ require his usual amount of hair products, though he does brush his teeth and picks the soft v-neck Henley that compliments his shoulders and stretches tight across his chest. Its particular shade of red does wonders for his complexion and the brown of his eyes, according to Donna, who had gotten it for his last birthday. He chooses an old but comfortable pair of dark jeans to go with it, its fabric worn soft and slightly scuffed by the knees and hemlines. It doesn’t hurt that they’re perhaps a bit tight, especially across his ass.

Damn, but he is one hot bastard.

Exiting the bedroom, he pads over to the kitchen on bare feet and checks the oven temperature. Mike should be here in a few minutes, he notes, glancing at his watch. He puts the pizza in to cook, having had an impulse to make it himself instead of ordering in. He makes one mean pizza sauce, after all, and the toppings are always better fresh. It doesn’t hurt that instead of the cheap wondermeat that is pepperoni, he’s got some quality Italian green pepper salami and some Spanish ham. The dough is his brother’s recipe, a result of having worked as a pizza baker for a year during his few years stay in Australia after college. As is a must, Harvey even covered the pizza in mozzarella cheese and grated some parmesan for added flavor. It’s a masterpiece in the shape of a circle, topped with tomato sauce and meat and fresh vegetables. He’s made two of them, the second waiting to be baked while he’ll split the first one with Mike.

When the doorbell finally rings, the pizza only has about five minutes left, and Harvey has put out plates, glasses and napkins on the sofa table. Satisfied, he goes to open the door.

Harvey is greeted with bright blue eyes, a blinding grin, and…is that? Yes, yes it is. He groans.

“Mike, are you wearing a shirt that says ‘Trek yourself before you wreck yourself’? With Spock on it? Are you really?” he asks, rolling his eyes heavenward and fighting a huge grin that really wants out.  “Oh God, I’m fucking a teenaged dork.”

Pouting, Mike does a big show of looking down on herself as if looking for what’s wrong, flailing her arms when she can’t. “What? There’s nothing wrong with it! I dressed for the occasion, you know.”

Arching a brow, Harvey leans casually against the doorframe. “Yes, because wearing a Trek shirt just _screams_ sex.”

Mike laughs as she pushes her way past him, rolling her eyes over her shoulder as she grins at where he’s trailing behind her, having closed the door. “Oh please, as if you haven’t got _Star Trek_ queued on that ridiculously huge TV of yours.”

Guilty as charged, he doesn’t say, but he finally gives in and answers her grin. “You’re the one who almost ran away with my entire collection, you little criminal.”

“Mm, I’m glad I didn’t,” she admits, winking. “My TV isn’t nearly as impressive. It would be a shame no to take full advantage of yours.”

He almost walks right into her when she suddenly stops, though, standing in the middle of his apartment sniffing the air. With a groan that tugs playfully at his stomach, reminding him of naked bodies and kiss-swollen lips, Mike turns to stare wide-eyed at him. “What in all the things that are holy smells this _divine?_ ”

Taking a step closer to thoroughly invade her personal space, Harvey smirks, and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Homemade pizza.”

The noise she makes takes him by surprise, startling a loud, genuine laugh out of him.

“Oh my _god_ , I’m going to suck your brain out of you dick for this, you gorgeous, amazing asshole.”

Like he said, it’s _just sex._ Nothing more.

**.**

The 19th time Harvey finds himself initiating a booty call, the 13th time it was more about the company that the actual booty, and the 8th time they’d gone out first before ending up at either of their places, Harvey feels it needs saying out loud.

“I don’t do relationships,” he says. “This is a casual, mutually beneficial, arrangement of non-exclusive sex.”

Mike blinks at him, a few strings of spaghetti hanging from her mouth and smearing her chin with the pesto sauce they’d made together in Mike’s shitty kitchen, after an impromptu grocery run when they realized her fridge was empty of anything but a jar of marmalade and some curdling milk. Slurping the spaghetti up, Mike reaches for her napkin and quickly wipes her mouth before answering. “Uh, yes? It’s not like I expected anything else, Harvey, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re really not the type for an adult, steady, romantic relationship, exactly.”

She laughs, and shoots him a grin, before going back to her food. Harvey frowns, inexplicably miffed. “What do you mean, I’m ‘not the type’?”

Not even deigning to glance up from her mountain of pesto drenched pasta, Mike shrugs absently. “You see commitment and you sue it for all its worth before kicking it to the curb. You take emotional attachment and laugh it in its face before telling it to fuck off. Not exactly the attitude or world view best suited for the basis of a healthy relationship. Not one I’d want, anyway.”

He slumps back in his seat, taken aback. Not by the surprisingly accurate, if perhaps a bit strongly worded, analysis of his stance on romance, but rather by his reaction to having what is essentially the truth thrown in his face like it’s nothing. And it is. It is nothing, because it’s exactly what he wanted cleared up. Except now that it turns out Mike was on the same page all along, it doesn’t…feel right. He’s frustrated, for one, and strangely despondent, instead of pleased and relieved. It feels like she’s just thrown down a challenge, and that’s not right, is it? It’s not like he _wants_ to prove her wrong. Right?

“Right,” he says, weakly, not really interested in his own well-stacked plate anymore. Unaware, Mike reaches for her wine glass and smiles, taking a sip. He wants to take it out of her hands and insist, petulantly, that he _too_ can be part of a healthy romantic relationship, it’s not like it’s _that_ hard. He’d surely excel at it, in fact, just like he does everything he puts his mind to (disregarding his previous attempts, of course). It’s just that he doesn’t _want_ to, okay? That’s all.

Why would he want to have a relationship with Mike anyway? They already have amazing, uncomplicated sex. He doesn’t have to do one-night stands anymore, which is convenient, because he’d almost forgotten how great it is to fuck someone who _knows_ your body. They even have intelligent conversation, which is a rarity even at work, and exchange obscure references as easy as breathing, which is previously unheard of. It’s like he’s been speaking a language no one knew until Mike, and it’s awesome, and uncomplicated, and casual and easy. Why mess it up with _feelings_? That’s just stupid.

But, he thinks with a sinking feeling of dread, it might be too late. She’s telling him about the pro-bono she worked this week, which she helped her senior partner win, totally unbothered and oblivious to his predicament. He realizes then that he _is_ dejected, that it felt like a challenge because he _wants_ to take up on it.

That Harvey ‘You can play my bed posts like a Güiro for all the notches’ Specter should want an exclusive, romantic relationship is improbable. Improbable, but apparently _, true_. Because, in the words of Sherlock Holmes: when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Shit.

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Harvey, you're in too deep now :,) IT'S TOO LATE FOR YOU NOW MWAHAHAHA *evil cackling*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey does an Arnold Schwarzenegger impression, Mike attempts to be polite and then there was the art critic...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to chapter 2! 
> 
> Got around to replying to a lot of old comments I haven't been keeping up with and a few were comments on the stories in this 'verse. Since I've gotten into writing Marvey again I got inspired by all your kind words and here we are! :D 
> 
> No offence to fans of Pollack's no.5, 1948 btw just not my, or Mike’s, taste lol

**.**

**Jackson Pollock's No. 5 1948 _is_ art...(according to some)**

**.**

“Stay here for a while, I’m just gonna get us some drinks,” Harvey says, leading her to stand by a huge painting in a lonely corner. Mike grimaces at it, thinking it looks like someone threw up in a bird’s nest. No wonder this corner has been temporarily abandoned.

“Harvey, just let me go with you. They’re gonna descend on me like vultures the moment they see you left me alone!,” she hisses, because after spending what felt like an eternity being led around on Harvey’s arm and being introduced to the ‘crème-de-la-crème’ (supposedly...Mike has her doubts about some of these people).

Her boyfriend (take that Laura Quinn on the 4th floor, saying Mike would die single) gently pries her fingers off his arm and chuckles. “Don’t worry, we’ve dealt with the worst and my personal pain in the ass doesn’t seem to be gracing us with his odorous presence tonight. Trust me, the gang I spotted by the refreshments aren’t people I would wish upon my worst enemy, much less the person responsible for my intimate health and happiness.”

Mike snorts. “Intimate health and happiness, is it? I guess I do see to your cardio and core strength, old man.”

“Sassy spitfire,” he growls as he pulls her in for a quick, biting kiss. She yelps against his mouth when he suddenly smacks her ass, jumping in surprise. He laughs, winking at her when she glares at him as he leaves. “ _I’ll be back.”_

Gaping, Mike whisper-shouts after him. “ _That’s the worst Schwarzenegger impression I’ve ever heard, you nerd!”_

Ignored, Mike pouts for a moment before giving up and laughing quietly to herself. In want of anything better to do, she turns to look at the painting and...well. She squints at it. Tilts her head to the side. Closes her right eye. Takes a step back. Tilts her head the other way---

“You have fine tastes in art, miss,” an unknown male voice interrupts her attempts to understand the piece of art on the wall. She barely manages to stifle a shriek, but it comes out as a sort of strangled _eep!_

“Oh I do apologise!” the man continues, and Mike spins around to face him, wide-eyed. She doesn’t forget a face, and it only takes her a speechless moment before she places the balding, buck-toothed man. Just in time for him to introduce himself. “Let me introduce myself; Louis Litt, junior partner at _Pearson Hardman._ ”

On reflex, she sticks out her hand and tries not to squirm when instead of shaking it, he brings it up to kiss it. She clears her throat, and discretely got her hand back to subtly rub it against her skirt. Smiling, a bit unsure, she returned the introduction. “Hello Mr. Litt, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Michelle Ross, junior associate at _Kirkland & McKenzie _.”

Litt grins, puffing his chest up and looking quite smug. “Ah, _Kirkland & McKenzie! _ I _crushed_ Clark Belmont on the Frinton-Smith case five months ago. I bet it got talked about a lot around that _third floor bullpen_. And call me Louis, please!”

Mike blinks, quite confused on how to take that and what to reply. She’s not sure what he’s implying. “Uh...it was a, um, very interesting case?”

It wasn’t really. Clark Belmont is a junior partner at her firm, and she is familiar with a lot of the junior and senior partners’ work, mostly because she is rather renowned for her affinity for proofing briefs as well as consuming and sifting through information. She gets lent out or consulted every now and then, and it’s been very beneficial in gathering quite a lot of experience. The Frinton-Smith case, though, she hadn’t had much to do with, or heard of by way of office gossip. She sees him open his mouth and panics.

“SO how about that painting huh?” she chirps, twirling around and nervously arranging her skirt as she stares up at the puke filled bird’s nest with as much enthusiasm and fascination she could muster. Litt steps up to stand beside her, following her gaze.

“Ah yes, you have a fine eye for art, Michelle!” Litt crows, and begins an exuberant analysis of the mess of colors before them that Mike has a hard time following. She smiles and nods where she thinks might be appropriate.

“Go back to your date and leave mine alone, Louis,” she hears Harvey snark moments before he steps up close beside her to hand her a glass of champagne. She takes it, feeling quite relieved, and with his free hand Harvey hooks an arm around her waist to pull her close into his body. “See? That’s funny, because you don’t have one!”

Mike takes a sip to stop herself from grinning, seeing Litt turn a violent shade of red.

“Harvey,” he spits out, voice dripping with contempt. Mike only knows what Harvey has told her of the man, and what she’s seen of him these last couple of minutes. The former she knows is decidedly biased, and because of that, she’s also aware that the latter might be quite prejudiced as well. Knowing this, she’s willing to keep an open mind and, if necessary, reel in Harvey’s sharp tongue. Meanwhile, she settles for steadying her nerves with a few more sips of her drink as Litt continues. “The lovely Michelle and I have been enjoying each other's company quite a lot. Maybe you shouldn’t ditch your dates and leave them all alone, not one like Michelle here. She deserves much better than the ‘nother-notch-in-the-bedpost Specter treatment. She isn’t like one of the hundreds of vapid, wannabe models you’ve paraded around before!”

Mike almost chokes on her drink at that rant, but Harvey throws his head back and laughs. She can feel him shaking against her side, tucked up close as she is. “Oh I know. She’s a genius, and could kick your ass. As much as I’d _love_ to see that, I have _much_ better plans for her this evening. Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

“Bye Mr. Litt!” she calls as Harvey drags her off into the crowd, elbowing her _date_ in his side as he snickers. “Very mature, Harvey.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh like you weren’t _dying_ to get out of there, spitfire. Did he manage to get _ponies_ into that art lecture he was holding?”

Frowning, Mike recalls something along equine lines being mentioned. “Yes...how did you--?”

“Experience,” Harvey mutters darkly. Shaking his head, he pulls them to a stop on the other side of the room. “Now come here,” he says, and leans down for a kiss.

She sighs, closing her eyes, and melts into it. His tongue runs along her lips and she opens, letting him deepen the kiss. It’s warm and soft, a slow seduction, and she feels a tingle run up her spine as he drags his drink-free hand along it to cup her nape. Too soon, he pulls away, but keeps their faces close. He grins. “You’ve been doing excellent tonight. The reason I took so long was because I kept getting stopped by people letting me know how impressive my date is.”

She blushes, but feels very pleased. “Of course they did, I’m da fuckin’ bomb!,” she says with a smirk. It earns her a snort, and a light pinch to her bum.

“Hey!” she yelps, but ruins it by giggling.

“Here’s to us, the two most gorgeous and brilliant creatures in the room,” Harvey exclaims cheekily while holding his glass up for a toast.

Mike laughs, but follows suit. “Just don’t let Donna or Ms. Pearson hear you say that, hotshot.”

They share a smile as their glasses clink together and Harvey winks. “It’ll be our little secret, then.”

She snorts. “Yeah right.”

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sass Squad haha.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise late-night visit at the office, burgers and kisses. And keys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short fluffy one. Harvey is falling deeper down the rabbit hole of romantic relationships.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who comments, bookmarks and/or leaves kudos! Comments especially does a lot to motivate and inspire, but I'm grateful to you all! <3

**.**

**Mi casa es su casa, or something like that**

**.**

 

Harvey startles as his phone chirps with an incoming text message, blinking blearily to clear the endless words and numbers dancing in his vision from hours upon hours of reading through files. He looks at the watch and winces at the time: 1:15am on a Friday morning. Stretching, he groans as his back cracks, before he shakes himself more alert and goes to check his phone, which lies blinking on his desk.

 

[Mike:]  _ hey handsome, you awake? if so, mind if I crash at your place? pulled a late one. xoxoxo  _

 

He sighs, regretful, because he knows he has at least two more hours of work before he’ll feel confident enough to leave the case be and go home. He’d much rather be home and welcome Mike into his bed, no matter that they’d both be too tired to do anything but sleep.

 

[Me:]  _ Sorry baby, stuck at the office pulling my own all-nighter. Won’t be off for another two hours. Go home and get some rest, we’ll talk tomorrow.  _

 

He sits staring at his phone until she replies, taking a break from his reading. A few moments later, his phone pings.

 

[Mike:]  _ we’re such workaholics omg. ~I’ll see you soon then~ xoxoxo _

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Harvey fights a grin before shaking his head.  _ Honestly. _

 

[Me:]  _ What have I told you about quoting Nicholas Sparks movies at me? Bad girl, that’s another strike. I’ll deal with you this weekend. _

 

[Mike:] ;) xoxoxo

 

When that is all he gets after a couple of minutes, Harvey puts his phone away and reluctantly returns to his work. It is a bit harder to fall into the rhythm he’d upheld before the interruption, as he’s been made aware of just how tired he really is, but eventually he loses himself in it. So much so, in fact, that he can’t stop himself from biting out a startled curse when a voice suddenly breaks the silence of his office.

“Wow, you’re really in the zone, you didn’t even notice me entering the office,” the amused voice of his unpredictable girlfriend tells him. He looks up, surprised enough to be unable to mask his delighted smile.

“Mike!” he exclaims before frowning in confusion. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

She laughs and holds up a paper bag she’d apparently brought with her. He really must be tired, because he didn’t notice it until now. “I brought fuel,” she explains with a grin. “Figured you might need it, if you’re going to power through for another hour and a half.”

Harvey groans in appreciation, because suddenly he’s fucking ravenous and he damn well deserves a break. Standing up, he walks around his desk to greet Mike properly and lead her to join him on the couch.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling her into an embrace and kissing her smiling mouth. She hums in satisfaction, sighing when he breaks it off but going with him willingly as he sits them down. “Whatever you’ve got there it smells fucking delicious.”

“It’s a greasy, fat cheeseburger with fries. I got you covered, dude,” she says as she nudges him with an elbow, pulling out his meal and handing it over.

Harvey rolls his eyes, but can’t quite quell a pleased smile. “Don’t call me dude. And are you trying to clog my arteries? We’re not married, you won’t benefit from my death at all. In fact, you’d be shooting yourself in the foot. No me, no more amazing sex and stunning wit.”

“God you’re such an arrogant asshole,” Mike sorts, though the insult is rendered somewhat moot when she leans into him and kisses him. “Now shut up and refuel.”

Turns out she brought some food for herself as well, and they spend a comfortable twenty minutes eating with the occasional comment. It’s nice, lessens the tension in his shoulders, and the break does wonders for a headache he hadn’t realized was building. His eyes welcome it, having been put under a lot of strain, and he finds himself reluctant to get back to work. However, once the last fry is gone he forces himself to stand up and stretch, trying to shake off the sleepiness that comes from a full stomach (and a full, never-ending day of work).

“Thank you,” he says, bending down to kiss Mike softly on her lips. He runs a hand through her hair, which is loose around her shoulders, and cups the back of her head. She pulls at his tie and forces him to fall into her or risk choking, landing with one knee between her legs and his free hand gripping the back of the couch. Her tongue teases along his lips and he groans, deepening a kiss he had intended to be short. When she breaks away to mouth along his jaw, pressing kisses down his neck, he comes to a decision. 

He removes his hand from her hair and uses it to gently pry her fingers off of his tie, freeing himself. Standing up once more, Harvey grins down at her and laughs when she pouts and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Don’t sulk, spitfire. I’ve got to get back to work, and having you in my office is way too distracting. If I weren’t so tired, I’d make my dreams come true and fuck you on my desk.” He’s pleased to see how she blushes and squirms, which only serves to make him regret the situation more. He swears he’ll take her back here when he’s not swamped with work, and make good on his words. “As it is, I’m going to give you my keys. You’re going to go back to my place and warm the bed up for me. I’ll join you in an hour or so, and we’ll sleep. In the morning, I’ll finish what you tried to start here, you naughty girl.”

Mike bites her lips and nods, smiling shyly. He can tell she’s tired too, or else she’d make a smartass remark instead of simply accepting his terms. Or maybe she’s just as eager as himself to spend the night sleeping with a warm body in a comfortable bed.

“All right, just don’t take too long. You shouldn’t overwork yourself,” Mike replies as she stands up, gathering the trash from their meal.

Harvey snorts. “Says the woman who didn’t sleep for 36 hours and plowed through a room full of files just last month.”

She snipes back at him, but he ignores it, fishing out his keys and giving them over. Not for the first time he thinks about getting a copy made, but now, it’s less a question of convenience and more about the thought of coming home on a night like this to find Mike already in bed. He thinks of going to sleep alone, waking up to her sneaking into bed and falling back to sleep, then waking up to share breakfast. Or coming home to find evidence of her having dropped by, a coffee mug on the kitchen island, a damp towel in the hamper, his bed rumpled. With a strength that staggers, he  _ wants. _

For now, he calls her a cab and sends her off with a kiss and a grope. He’s got time to figure this out, and looking at his track record, he always get what he wants, in the end.

And this, this thing with Mike? Turns out he wants that very, very much.

**.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insomnia, two bruised asses and pancakes. What better way to start the weekend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes from sweet, to silly, to mildly smutty. I typed and the story did what it wanted, opps.
> 
> HEADS UP! The rating is now upped to M! 
> 
> There is spanking in this, so if that's not your thing, you can skip the part between:
> 
> "The heat of him leaves her as he steps back,"
> 
> And 
> 
> "“Fuck me,” she begs"
> 
> While pretending no spanking took place inbetween~
> 
> (My kinks are showing again sry guys)
> 
> Also, the line "I'm too tired to fall asleep" is from Fireflies by Owl City.
> 
> And I haven't read The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher, I've only seen the TV show. But it's a very cool show and I bet the books are better! :)
> 
> Ok one last thing! Thanks for all the comments! I had someone leave a request for Mike to impress the people at Pearson Hardman while Harvey preens, and I might actually have something in mind for that so...hopefully that'll happen! :D

**.**

 

**I’m** **_way_ ** **too tired to fall asleep!**

 

**.**

 

Being a junior associate gunning for a promotion means that you don’t get that much sleep, and very few days off. As such, Mike’s insomnia could actually come in handy and be rather productive. But sometimes, when she’s rewarded with a whole weekend off, that high-strung tension she usually operates on is hard to unwind. The time she’s supposed to use to reboot is instead spent in a state of anxious restlessness. Her brain refuses to shut off, thinking she has to work on something or do something, even if rationally she knows she’s got time off. Sometimes, she gets away with taking extra work home, but mostly she gets her metaphorical fingers slapped by her boss’ administrative assistant for trying.

However, ever since she started spending the majority of her free time with Harvey, this has become less of an issue. She finds it much easier to relax around him, enjoying their banter and the way he pulls her close whenever he can. He runs hot, his body warm against hers which always seems to be cold (“It's because you’re so damn skinny. You need to expand your diet from Red Bull and junk food. Ever heard of cooking?”). It also helps that they can’t really keep their hands off of each other; a good fuck does wonders for cleaning out her mind. Supposedly, it’s all those good drugs being released in the body which helps relax her as well. Whatever it is, she’s happily reaping the benefits.

But sometimes, it’s not quite enough, and she finds herself awake at ungodly hours of the night on a free weekend. On the rare occasions that she’s home, she simply sits up in bed with her computer or a book, trying to pass the time. At Harvey’s, however, it’s a bit different.

It’s one of those nights. She can’t sleep, and the bed she’s in is definitely not her own. Exhibit A: it’s kingsized. Exhibit B: Egyptian cotton sheets with a thread count so high it could touch the sky. And finally, Exhibit C: a very warm, very comfortable Harvey Specter shackling her to the bed with arms and legs, like a particularly handsy octopus.

“Shit,” she mumbles to the wall she’s facing, having stared at it for what feels like  _ hours _ trying to fall asleep. Harvey’s spooning her from behind, and his limbs went heavy with sleep the moment they got in bed and he’d pulled her close. By now she knows she might as well give up, so she begins the slow process of untangling herself from her personal heated blanket. Harvey grumbles in discontent a she moves his arm, and squirms away from his legs, slipping off her side of the bed to land on the floor with an ungraceful ‘ouff' and a dull  _ thud _ . Quickly, she sits up and looks over to her sleeping boyfriend, letting out a sigh of relief when she sees he’s still sleeping. As she stands, she watches him wriggle over to her side and hugging her pillow to his chest, and she falls a little bit more in love.

“Oh my god, you  _ dork, _ ” she whispers, giggling breathlessly. She can’t help but lean down to press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead, which wrinkles under her lips. She leaves before his stupid, adorable self tempts her into doing something which will wake him.

On her way out of the bedroom, she snags one of Harvey’s discarded Henleys. She sleeps in panties only whenever she shares a bed with Harvey to avoid overheating in his arms, but the apartment is a bit too chilly for her to hang around it topless on her own.

She settles down on the comfortable leather couch by the TV, wrapping a blanket around her legs and picking up a book she’d left on the coffee table. She’s working her way through  _ The Dresden Files  _ series, and she’s already on the ninth book. She quickly immerses herself in the world of Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden and his magic crimes.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, since she’s purposely avoided looking at the time since it would only make it harder to unwind. But the sound of footsteps startles her out of her reading, and she looks up to find Harvey making his way over to her looking quite grumpy. She bites her lower lip hard to avoid laughing out loud, because his bedhead is adorable.

She sighs, resigned. Most nights when her insomnia kicks in like this, he sleeps through it, but occasionally he wakes up and goes seeking her out. By now, she doesn’t even bother to put up a fight, simply rearranges herself and holding the blanket open in preparation.

With a grunt, Harvey falls into her, lying down along her front between her legs. He rests his head on her chest, nuzzles into her, and goes completely limp.

“This could be avoided if you just got back in bed with the damn book,” Harvey grumbles. Well, she guesses that’s what he said, because it’s a bit muffled by sweater and boob.

“I’m not having this argument again. Go back to sleep, idiot,” she says, rolling her eyes while gently running her fingers through his hair. She envies his ability to drop off at the blink of an eye. Leaning her head back, she stares for a moment at the ceiling and ponders if she should go back to the book or try to find sleep again. In the end, she arranges herself around the lump pinning her down and rests the book on Harvey’s back, turning the page.

By the time she’s finished the book, the sun has begun to rise and she’s ready to push Harvey off to the floor. He’s been pressing against her bladder for the past hour or so and for all that she finds it quite comfortable to have him in her arms for once, the insomnia has taken its toll and she’s not feeling very charitable. With a calculating look at the distance between the floor and Harvey’s head, she dislodges a few pillows from behind her own and throws them down to prevent any skulls from being cracked open.

Then she pushes.

With a  _ thud  _ and a confused mumble, Mike is free and Harvey is blinking blearily up at the ceiling.

“Whaaa---,” he groans, but she’s already scrambling off the couch to hurry off to the bathroom.

“Nature calls and waits for no one!” she throws over her shoulder, grinning at the loud cursing she gets in response.

When she gets back, the living room floor is empty. Shrugging, Mike makes her way into the kitchen and yawns, unbelievably tired but still feeling too caught up in her head to want to lie down again. Maybe some breakfast will help weigh her down, so her twice-damned brain won’t completely ruin her weekend.

She starts making apology pancakes, a preemptive strike to try and prevent whatever revenge Harvey might be planning for his bruised ass. She’s just gathered all the ingredients on the counter when he strikes.

“FUCK!,” she shierks in fright, unprepared for the arms around her waist and the hot breath against her ear. She flails, but luckily nothing gets thrown to the ground, and the only thing she manages to hit is the edge of the counter. 

“That’s for the rude awakening,” Harvey growls, and fair enough, she could give him that. Not that she’ll admit it.

Pouting she turns her head to try and catch his eye. “But I was gonna make you strawberry and chocolate chip pancakes!”

He bites her ear. “Oh trust me, you’ll be making those anyway. Now come here, naughty girl.”

Squirming in his grip, she tries to protest but he ignores it and drags her over to the kitchen island. He pushes her against it, making her brace herself with her hands to prevent herself from face-planting on its cold marble surface.

“Stay,” he orders her in a voice that never fails to send a shiver down her spine, and a quiver to her thighs. While she enjoys being lippy with him, on these occasions, it usually pays off to be good.

The heat of him leaves her as he steps back, until the only point of contact is his hand on the small of her back, where she’s bent over. Her suspicions are confirmed when he bunches up the sweater she’s borrowed, and pulls down her panties to her thighs, until her ass is exposed.

“Two for staying up all night, three for not coming back to bed, and five for that stunt you pulled,” he explains calmly, to which she squirms in anticipation. It’ll hurt, a bit, but mostly it’ll turn her bum hot and tingly, and leave her feeling quite buzzed and horny.

God, she’s already turned on, just by the thought of it. She nods, a silent agreement and acceptance at once.

His first strike makes her yelp, startled. The second has her biting her lip and pressing her thighs together. The third and fourth has her squirming enough for the fifth to be hard enough to hurt.

“Be  _ still, _ ” he growls and she whimpers, nodding.

The sixth ends with a caress, going from one cheek to the other, down her thigh a bit to let her feel how hot his hand is from spanking her. She shudders, and he gives her the seventh and eighth in close succession. By the ninth she’s moaning, tears at the corner of her eyes. When the final strike lands she’s wet enough to make a mess of her thighs, and all she wants is to get Harvey’s cock inside as soon as possible.

“God, look at that ass. Pretty and red, all warmed up for me,” he groans from behind, pressing his clothed erection against her. She grinds back into him and savours the noises he makes, biting her lip as she tries to contain her own.

“Fuck me,” she begs, arching her back and spreading her legs a little bit wider. Harvey seems to have forgiven her, because he does. It’s quick and dirty, neither of them lasts for very long, but she loves it. It’s just what she needs, her mind driven to distraction and her body falling into a thoroughly pleased exhaustion.

She ends up making the pancakes, while Harvey feeds them both from one plate and a shared fork. Halfway through she starts to flag, and she can’t quite remember how she got back into bed but she thinks Harvey might’ve carried her. She doesn’t wake up until a little past 1pm, and so, she still has a bit of Saturday left to enjoy.

All in all, not a completely wrong start to the weekend.

 

**.**

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say for myself. Good night.
> 
> *rolls under bed*


End file.
